


One of a Thousand Nights

by Medie



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Background Femslash, Comment Fic, Community: fandom_stocking, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes right down to it, the one constant in a Slayer's life is her Watcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of a Thousand Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kysrinaria](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kysrinaria).



This is always how it ends. Slayers and Watchers; Watchers and Slayers. Always inexorably intertwined back through the ages, almost to the First of both their lines.

The Chronicles are littered with hints and suggestions. No one's come right out and said it, but Giles has translated a thousand demon languages. Innuendo and doubletalk are not only old hat to him, they're child's play of the highest order.

When it comes right down to it, the one constant in a Slayer's life is her Watcher.

He's never told Buffy about it. He could never quite bring himself round to the subject―he imagines she's sussed it out for herself, she's always been quick that way―and, even after everything, never will.

He lays fingers to pages as he's done nearly every night of his life―even when he'd rebelled and let Ripper have his day, he'd found himself straying back to these stories, these women and these men―and lets his eyes trace the pages.

Tonight it's Elizabeth MacGregor as the Watcher and a young, brilliant, maddening Slayer named Daisy MacLeod. Elizabeth's graceful, precise writing lays out a turn of the century London that's so real, he can almost feel the grit of dust beneath his fingers and hear the clamour of the street outside.

He reaches for his tea and sips carefully as he reads Elizabeth's near-loving description of Daisy's injuries after a night's work. It's not too much work to imagine Daisy's pale, freckled skin beneath Elizabeth's delicate touch. The ferocity of their affection reaches off the pages, wrapping around him in an embrace, and he feels his cheeks heat with the reality of it.

Particularly since he's written passages much like this one himself.

Hands, calloused from years of stakes and swords, slide down his shoulders and lips, warm from coffee and lush from his kisses, brush the back of his neck.

"Really?" Buffy says, her voice a tempting murmur in his ear. "Books? _Tonight_?"

Her fingers tweak at his glasses and he ducks his head, laughing. "A Watcher's work is never done."

"Ah, that is not entirely true," Buffy tugs his chair back then appropriates his lap before he can protest. "When his Slayer says so, it is." She tips her head, curls spilling over a shoulder left bare by one of his shirts. "And she's saying."

"I wasn't aware that was how it worked," Giles says, but his reading's already forgotten. Her thighs are warm beneath his hands and he slides a touch back and forth over them.

"Oh, yes you were," Buffy says, murmuring the words against his lips. He parts them, inviting her in, but she takes her time. A punishment well earned, he supposes. "You're a bright boy, Giles." She reaches behind her and produces his book.

"You've read it," he says, pleased by her slow nod. "The Council would be scandalized."

She raises an eyebrow. "After everything I've done? Please, that is so not happening and we both know it."

Giles watches her put the book back. She takes her time leaning back, her body pushing down into his, and he only just quells the groan. "You might have a point, I suspect."

"Oh, see, Giles, that's not fair." Buffy grins, taking his face in her hands. "No tempting me with the potential for bad puns. Punning is serious business." She squirms a little and he does groan this time. "Fortunately for you, I'm the type that's easily distracted by my favourite toys."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise," Buffy slides off his lap, pulling him with her, "You'd be in so much trouble, mister. I might have to spank you."

If the others had a Slayer like his, Giles imagines, they can't be blamed. Poor things wouldn't have stood a chance and, like him, would thank every god imaginable for it.


End file.
